


They're just jealous, kiddo

by ProblematicPines



Series: Inverted Twins AU [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Pure and sweet, Self-Esteem Issues, Uncle and Nephew bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 15:11:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17552033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProblematicPines/pseuds/ProblematicPines
Summary: Looking around, he saw nobody around him, just an empty kitchen.Stan was about to casually dismiss the voice as a ghost (in Gravity Falls, you could do such a thing and not be called “loony”), when his gaze fell upon the top of the fridge.Curled up there was his grand-nephew Mac.“What are you doin’ up there, squirt?” Stan asked, clambering to his feet, hearing his old joints crack. He winced. “More impor’an’ly, how did ya even get up there?”





	They're just jealous, kiddo

Grunkle Stan had become accustomed to the sound of something exploding in the Mystery Shack ever since the twins had arrived yet again for a summer vacation in Gravity Falls. Coupled with his mad-scientist twin brother who had an affinity for logic-defying pyrotechnics and the like, he was certain the Shack they all lived in was at risk of being razed to the ground at least twice a week.

Either that or the sound of pounding footsteps down the stairs or hysterical laughter echoing down from the attic bedroom.

But when Grunkle Stan returned home to the Shack carrying the bags of groceries he’d stol-erm, purchased with his own hard-earned money like a regular citizen, he was taken aback by the lack of explosions and laughter.  
Of course, this struck him as odd. There was no sound of construction wafting up from the basement (which Ford somehow had the guts to stay inside for all hours of the day), nor the sound of Dipper watching his “Ghost Harassers” TV programme in the living room.

Not even the sound of Mackenzie (or Mac, as he preferred to be called) bouncing off the walls and shrieking like a wild child unleashed.

The latter was the most surprising one to Stan. He hoped that they were all merely out for the day, and that nothing had happened.  
“If any of those gnomes have broken in again, I swear I’m calling the exterminator,” Stan grumbled gruffly to himself as he started putting the groceries away in their respective compartments in the kitchen.

“Grunkle Stan…?”

The small, pleading voice came from nowhere, and Stan almost had a heart attack. He dropped the slightly-spoiled milk he was about to put into the fridge and fell back onto his butt with an undignified yelp that he wasn’t sure he could even make.  
Looking around, he saw nobody around him, just an empty kitchen.  
Stan was about to casually dismiss the voice as a ghost (in Gravity Falls, you could do such a thing and not be called “loony”), when his gaze fell upon the top of the fridge.

Curled up there was his grand-nephew Mac.

“What are you doin’ up there, squirt?” Stan asked, clambering to his feet, hearing his old joints crack. He winced. “More impor’an’ly, how did ya even get up there?”

He could have sworn he thought Mac was half-raccoon sometimes.

Mac, who was curled up in one of his trademark sweaters (this one being a baggy orange one with fuschia polka-dots on the sleeves), merely shook his head slowly, his messy brown curls obscuring his eyes.

“I dunno,” he mumbled back. “I do weird things when I’m sad.”  
“You do weird things all the time,” Grunkle Stan responded, hoping that the playful jab would make his nephew at least crack a smile, but he remained uncharacteristically morose. Stan instead decided to do the next best thing, which was his least favourite thing: ask him about his feelings.

“So what’s eatin’ at ya, kiddo?” Stan asked as he restocked the fridge with the aforementioned spoiled milk. It was odd for somebody as cheery and unapologetically-whimsical as Mac to be upset about anything. The only times Stan ever recalled Mac being upset about something was finding out his crush-of-the-week had rejected him, or more...supernatural reasons that he didn’t quite feel like getting into.  
Hopefully this time was something as superficial as a crush.

Mac uncurled himself, swinging his little legs over the top of the fridge and letting out a deep, saddened sigh.  
His round, plump face held no trace of joy or happiness that Stan had come to see as a permanence on Mac’s face, much like the odd birthmark on Dipper’s forehead or the six fingers on Ford’s hands.  
Without his slightly-delirious optimism, Mac wasn’t really...Mac. And it showed. His messy curls were a little messier than usual, his rosy cheeks were a little less rosy, and his mouth was pressed into a miserable frown that tugged at Grunkle Stan’s hardened, cobwebbed heartstrings.  
He did have a few star and heart stickers on his face, which was something. At least he wasn’t so sad as to not be weird in a way only he could be.

“It’s…” Mac started to say, then stopped, biting his lip. His colourful braces seemed a little less colourful.  
“I don’t like school back home. I hate it. Nobody likes me there.”

That got Stan’s attention. The unrequited crush theory was out of the window now. He felt a cold, sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.  
Unfortunately, he knew all too well what Mac was going through, for he and his twin brother Ford had experienced the same harsh treatment from their peers back when they were Mac’s age. It was a sad reality that some kids went through, and despite over fifty years passing, the psychological wounds suddenly hurt as badly as the day he had received them.

But Stan was good at faking things, even though it probably would have been more beneficial for Mac to see the more emotional side of his Grunkle.

“How can anybody hate you? You’re a swell guy,” Stan responded, still restocking groceries (well, he wasn’t really - he was just pushing stuff around, too nervous about looking his nephew in the eyes).

Which was true: Mac was the happiest kid he’d ever had the fortune of calling “family”. He was constantly chipper unlike his brother Dipper (“That rhymed,” he thought), and expressing himself in ways that most other people wouldn’t.  
Whether that be artistically (Mac had an affinity for drawing and painting rainbow unicorns with magical animals riding them), fashion-wise (his seemingly-infinite supply of sweaters made him stand out in a crowd, especially when Stan had never seen him wear the same one twice), or vocally (his high-pitched hollering about minute things he found amazing would always captivate the attention of those around him).

Mac was generally a fantastic guy; why he thought everybody hated him was beyond him. If anything, Stan would have considered himself blessed to be called one of Mac’s friends. Candy and Grenda had no idea how good they had it.

“That’s just it, though,” Mac replied sullenly, lazily swinging his legs back and forth. Stan noticed he had more stickers up and down his knobbly legs. “People at school think I’m weird because I’m so happy all the time.”  
He paused, debating on whether he should say the next part.  
“One time, some of them even told the teachers that I was on…you-know-what.”  
He leaned down from the fridge, and hissed through gritted teeth:  
“D-R-U-G-Z.”

Stan almost guffawed at that, but caught himself, but not after he’d chuckled a fair bit.

“Seriously?” he snickered. “That’s the biggest load of sh-er, crap I’ve ever heard. Those brats must have never been happy in their lives before. I blame the parents.”

Mac settled back into his original position, looking forlornly at his rainbow sneakers as he swung them back and forth.  
Stan thought for a moment.  
“So is that all?”

Mac shook his head.  
“Nah,” he murmured. “There’s something else, but...I don’t wanna talk about it.”  
“Aw, come on!” Stan insisted, taking two cans of Pitt Soda before shutting it. He stepped over to the table and patted his hand on the side of the table across from him. “You can’t tell me all that then not continue! I wanna help ya, kiddo.”

For a moment Mac remained sitting on his unconventional perch surveying the messy kitchen, then, apparently outweighing his need to be comforted with his need to wallow in self-pity, hopped down onto the counter and then onto the floor.  
Even in his depressed state, he still had it in him to be quirky and agile.  
Stan smiled a little at that.

Mac dragged himself over to the table, and sat down across from his burly uncle. Taking the can of soda with a quiet “Thanks”, he opened it and took a drink. He refused to meet his Grunkle’s eyes, instead staring solemnly down at his soda.  
Stan decided to bridge the gap, since it was unlikely Mac was up to it.

“So, mind tellin’ me what this other thing is then, or wha’?” He took a drink himself, and purposefully made a loud slurping sound, hoping it would lighten the mood. To his relief, the corners of Mac’s mouth quirked into a little smile, if only for a moment.  
“Well...you know how I am when it comes to boys, don’t you?” he asked.

Stan nodded - how could he not?  
His nephews’ first summer vacation in Gravity Falls had mostly consisted of Mac thirsting after every boy he crossed paths with and Dipper hopelessly trying to hold him back. The amount of Restraining Orders the court had issued against Mac was something to make Stan proud of.

“Well, the kids at school think I’m ‘wrong’ for liking them,” Mac confessed sadly, tapping his forefinger absently against the side of his can. “Because I’m a boy too. Dipper says that there’s nothing wrong with it, and so do Mom and Dad. But…” He trailed off, sniffling sadly. Stan’s heart ached seeing his nephew in such a state.

“Who cares if you like boys or not?” Stan said dismissively, taking another gulp from his soda, this time without a comedic slurp that left pink soda running down his chin. Admittedly, it had been quite a while since he’d had this sort of conversation, and was pretty rusty. Maybe Ford would be of better help to Mac, especially since he was the one Stan had had the conversation with all those years ago.  
Two gay dudes would be able to talk about this easily.  
“Don’t they have telepathy or somethin’?” Stan thought.

“They do,” Mac insisted, sounding strained. Tears bubbled up in his usually-sparkling brown eyes. “They care. Well, they don’t care, because if they did then they wouldn’t be calling me such horrible names, but you get the point.” He groaned exasperatedly, hurling himself across the table, one arm dangerously close to knocking over his can of soda.  
“I just don’t get it, Grunkle Stan. Why do they hate me because of who I like?”

Stan’s mind was blank. He had no clue what to say. Telling jokes during such a heavy time was off the table. After a few seconds of silence that Stan dreaded gave Mac the idea that he didn’t care about his troubles, Stan decided to open up about his past.

Sure, Mac and the others had already been inside his mind before, but he doubted they had seen much of his childhood, and the similar troubles he had faced.

“You know, I went through something similar when I was your age. But I was bullied for being fat.”

Mac looked down at himself, seeing the slight curve of his tummy underneath his sweater. “This is different,” he replied, putting his head back down. “Liking boys has nothing to do with having a big belly.”  
“I know,” Stan responded. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt when they teased me about it. I had Ford to talk to about it, just like how you have Dipper to talk to about your situation.” Saying that made it seem like Mac’s troubles were downgraded to having something as trivial as a little baby fat, and not an irreversible trait like a sexuality that was yet to be socially accepted by classmates.  
So Stan decided to change the subject.

“They’re just jealous, kiddo.”

Mac’s head quirked up at that, a confused look on his face. “What?”

“You heard me,” Stan replied casually, taking a drink from his soda without elaborating.

Mac straightened up in his seat, looking at him quizzically. “How on Earth can they be jealous of me if they tease me so much?” he asked, sounding a little annoyed at such a bold statement. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Sure it does,” Stan replied, a faint smirk ghosting his lips as he crooked an eyebrow at his nephew. “The kids that condemn ya for bein’ gay are jealous that ya can be so open about it, and they can’t. They still think their feelin’s are icky and gross. They’re still stuck in tha’ cupboard or somethin’.”

“You mean closet?”

“Yeah, that.”

Mabel pondered this for a few seconds. “How do you know?”

Stan sneered, unable to actually respond due to the can of soda pressed against his lips. After taking a drink, he gave his nephew a smug look. “One of the kids that bullied me and Ford when we were young ‘uns ended up being caught in a bathroom blo-I mean, doin’ somethin’ you’ll find out when you’re olda. Name wus Crampelter or somethin’.”

“But didn’t he bully you for being fat, and not for being like me?” Mac inquired, sounding both perplexed but intrigued.

“Well, he bullied me for bein’ fat, and Ford fer bein’ gay,” Stan responded, as though it were the most normal thing in the world for him to be telling his impressionable young nephew. “And fer his six fingers too.”  
Before Mac could inquire about his other Grunkle being just like him in ways he hadn’t considered before (which would have led them down a very long, very confusing, and very uncomfortable road), Stan pressed on.

“What I’m tryna say is that you have no reason ta let those kids get to ya so much. If you’re gay, that’s great. Flaunt it and make everybody mad. But just know that no matter what those assholes-” He didn’t bother censoring himself anymore, much to Mac’s amusement “-think of ya, there’s absolutely nothin’ wrong with it. And if they still think so, all ya have ta do is give me and Ford a call, and we’ll be on the next flight down to kick their little asses.”

For the first time, Mac heartily chuckled at his profanity, and it was music to Stan’s ears. He’d done good.  
“Grunkle Stan, they’re thirteen!” he laughed. “You can’t just beat up a kid!”  
“Honey, I’m an old man who almost risked destroying the universe to bring my brother back,” Stan replied. “Punching some little punk who thinks he can mess with one of my favourite nephews is nothing.”

Mac laughed again, and so did Stan. The two of them sat in the kitchen, laughing away at one another for ages.

“Thanks, Grunkle Stan,” Mac finally said after a while, sounding genuinely grateful for his Grunkle’s kind words.

“No problem, Mac,” Stan replied, beaming at him.

**Author's Note:**

> It was just so adorable! Stan is the sweetest old man ever (even if he does feed his family spoiled milk and has bad examples when it comes to relating to other people's struggles) and Mac is just as sweet!  
> I'm gonna be drawing these guys, so stay tuned for that!
> 
> This idea came to me a while ago, and I just simply had to write it! I've always wanted to see Fics about a Genderbent!Mabel, but didn't find any that caught caught my fancy. So I decided to write my own with Mac! I hope you like him!  
> Hopefully I use him a bit more in future!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated!


End file.
